Coffee Breaks
by Inhumane Side
Summary: Being the son of Death is one tiresome job. Being the new Shinigami is another. It is up to Maka Albarn to help Death the Kid survive his new occupation– by incessantly giving high-caffeinated drinks and motivation written on a Post-it.
1. Black Coffee

Light footsteps echoed in the empty hallway and cheerful humming penetrated the dull silence. It had been three days after the enthronement ceremony of the only son of the late Lord Death. The chaotic buzzing had died down and the nosy crowd had finally found something better to do. All was well in Death City.

Her perfectly tied ponytails incessantly bounced up and down. Nothing can ruin her mood today. "Son of a–!" Her happy skipping suddenly skidded to a stop when she heard the unfinished profanity coming from the closed library. She hesitantly went inside and inspected the enormous room.

Someone was definitely occupying the library when she noticed the amount of paperwork and books neatly stacked on the farthest table. She tiptoed inside and closed the perfectly burnished door behind her. "Hello?" Her soft voice reverberated on the interior of the book-filled room. "I sincerely apologize for shouting a stream of curses today. I hope I did not entirely ruin your lovely day."

The technician abruptly turned around, easily recognizing the owner of the sophisticated voice. Standing behind her was none other than her former classmate and teammate, Death the Kid. The idea was still baffling– him, being the new Shinigami. "Lord Kid." She politely curtsied which surprised the both of them.

"Maka, you don't have to do that." He was still the same. Waving his hand eight times like before, when their circumstances were still normal. "Well, I have to use what's left of my courtesy sometimes. I don't want them acquiring spider webs and dust." They both chuckled at the light remark.

"Formality never suits you, Maka." The comment somehow caught her off-guard. Kid's golden eyes glimmered with melancholy and nostalgia. "I am slightly offended." She was so glad to hear his melodic laughter. "I didn't mean it like that." He offered her an apologetic smile, which she gladly took, before sitting down on his frequently used chair.

He tapped the chair beside him, coaxing her to accompany him as he continues to peruse the faded words from the books he got. "So, what's up?" She started before plopping down on the mahogany chair. "The ceiling, Maka." He replied, obviously amused with his answer. She rolled her emerald eyes as usual before lightly smacking the boy's arm, which would be entirely rude if she was not a friend of the newly enthroned Shinigami.

"Answer the question, Kid." He chuckled again, delighted with the fact that his dear friend accompanied him this boring day. "A lot of paperwork and research." The mood suddenly turned absurdly glum. "About?" She pressed on. Whether she ignored or noticed the sudden change, he didn't know. "About the amount of damage we did to the witches and how to fix it."

"I thought we were over that." Kid's frown suddenly deepened. Clearly they are not. She hit a sensitive nerve. "There is still one-fourth of the population of witches who are doubtful of Mabaa's decision and I'm trying to find ways of smoothing things over with them. They reckon to be really hard to persuade." This time, Kid heaved out a profound sigh. Maka did not clearly notice it before but the famous Death the Kid looked stressful and tired.

"There is always an answer to the question, Kid. You'll find it." Maka's smile was contagious. The remark suddenly brought hope to Kid's tired self. The feeling of being hopeful settled in his stomach and quickly curled, warming up his whole body with the excitement to succeed. "Remember, the answers lie in between." Maka added, for good measure.

The wall clock suddenly emanated a rumble. _Bong, _it said. For a clock so loud to be placed inside a library, it was completely ironic. Although, the grumble of the clock caught Maka's attention. Her green eyes dilated in shock, completely forgetting the designated time for her to leave DWMA. She cursed under her breath.

"I am so sorry for not being much of a help to you." Kid was highly amused by the awkward signals Maka is shooting. She abruptly stood up from her seat and muttered a stream of apologies. She returned the disturbed chair to its original place and straightened the hem of her plaid skirt. "I really need to go."

She fumbled with her white gloves, trying to hide the pinkish tint her cheeks obtained. She gawkily curtsied once more before practically making a run for the door. She twisted the rusty bronze doorknob, making the huge entrance creaked in blissful eeriness. "Maka?" Kid unexpectedly called out. "Yes?" She quietly replied, shyness suddenly overwhelming her embarrassed being.

"Formality never suits you." She smiled.

* * *

Dear readers, whether anonymous or not,

I finally made a new KiMa story! I really wanted to explore the concept about Death the Kid being the new Shinigami, so this story was born. I hope you liked the first installment. This story would definitely contain a lot of awkward moments, fluff, denied feelings and many more. Tell me what you think so leave a review. Thank you!

Sincerely, Star.


	2. Creamy Mocha

The white fog slowly embraced the sleeping city. Pinkish rays of sunlight illuminated the closed windows. The wind roared with determination, eager to wake the sluggish stirrers. One, however, caught the nature's attention. She cheerfully opened her bedroom window and welcomed the morning breeze. She jumped out of her disrupted bed, took a meager shower, put on fresh clothes, and was out of the door with a half-cooked toast clamped in between her brushed teeth.

She was excited to start the day. She left her lethargic partner as she zoomed in the cobblestoned street, riding a teal-painted bike. She passed by closed shops and early risers like her. She had one destination in mind and she was eager to reach it. _Deathbucks_ came into her sight and her spring-green eyes glimmered in ecstasy. She literally jumped out of her bike and entered the coffee shop.

The aroma of bread, fresh from the oven, penetrated her tiny nose as she ventured inside the quaint shop. She ravenously stared at the intricately designed pastries lined up behind the glass box. The store was half-empty. Employees cleaning the desks, baristas preparing the coffee, the customers reading the morning newspaper, it was a serene sight to see. She went to the counter, remembering her true purpose.

"A creamy mocha to go, please." She said to the one in-charge with a smile. "Good morning, Maka! What an unusual order. For someone else, I presumed?" He wrote her name on the transparent cup, handed it to his co-worker and asked for the payment. "You presumed right!" She answered with glee. The cashier heartily laughed before giving her change.

She waited at the other end of the counter, fumbling her white gloves in nervous excitement. She only had this idea last night while reading an intimate scene from a book. Coffee means something special to Maka. She believes that the type of coffee you order defines who you are. An explicit type of coffee can mean that you are a complicated person, that you want everything to be in perfect detail. Plain black coffee can mean that you are a simple person, that you don't care about what other people think.

"A creamy mocha for Maka!" The barista shouted. Her train of thought immediately crashed as she reached for the coffee and asked for a coaster. She put it in a brown paper bag, taped it, and put a green Post-it that represents herself. She pulled out a black Sharpie from her pocket and wrote something on the piece of paper.

_"Sometimes, finding answers can be a waste of time. But sometimes, the time wasted would worth it." _

She went out of the coffee shop, satisfied with the note. She mounted her bike, carefully put the bag in her bike basket and drove into the rising sun.

* * *

He heaved out a sigh, composed of meanings much deeper than the ocean. Being stressed is one thing. Being sleep-deprived is another. He stayed up all night, reading paperwork that is unrelated to his main problem. He didn't want to be like his father who was always lolling around. He wants all the work to be done. Although, he can't help but overtire himself. He retrieved another book to add to the references he got for the problem at hand. He went back to his newly made office.

The black doors simultaneously swung open. His desk was unharmed. His things were undisturbed. Everything was still at their symmetric state. Picture frames hung perfectly on the pure white wall. A sheaf of paperwork was stacked neatly on the right side of the desk. The black chair was hidden excellently in its den. His silver laptop was perfectly aligned on the left side of the table. It is truly indeed a remarkable office, for him at least.

The sight baffled him. Nothing was out of sight, except for the brown bag symmetrically placed on the middle of his slick black desk. He carefully approached it, as if the bag was an injured and scared animal. Something green caught his eye. He removed the piece of paper from the package, read it and felt ferocious butterflies in his empty stomach. He immediately recognized the handwriting.

He opened the bag and sighed in utter happiness. Just what he really needs– coffee. It was still lukewarm. The sender was early and was brave enough to access his own office when no one was allowed to enter unless given with permission. He took a sip.

He moaned from the warmth and comfort it gave. It bathed his dry throat and defied his sleepiness. He tasted cream and with a hint of chocolate. _Creamy mocha. _He smiled again. One of his true favorites and only one person knew about this. He would send his gratitude later. For now, he needs to finish his paperwork and reacquaint with his gang.

* * *

Dear readers, whether anonymous or not,

Short, descriptive, full of meaning, I hope you loved it! I really had a hard time writing this. I want you, my readers, to see the message but at the same time, make you feel it. I ended up with this and the quote was thought by _moi_. Anyway, the whole gang would make their grand entrance next chapter.

Question of the day: _What is your favorite type of coffee?_

Mine is creamy mocha, like one of Kid's favorites.

Sincerely yours, Star.


	3. Hot Espresso

_Ding-dong, dead-dong!_

The school bell inevitably shrieked its monotonous bonging. Lethargic students filled the empty hallways, relishing at the mere fact of escaping their utterly boring classes. Friends were easily reacquainted. Books were immediately disposed in their lockers. Classrooms were deserted.

The afternoon light nimbly made its way inside the hallway, blinding a group of students who were lingering near their lockers. A whitehead, angry-looking he was, was trying to jam open his locker but no amount of excessive force would let him do it. His partner delivered a mastered eye roll, hit his hip with hers, and took the initiative to open his good-for-nothing locker. The hinges were probably rusted.

The locker door cooperated, swinging opening with ease, but flooding the ashy-blond one with hundreds of multi-colored envelopes. "What the–?" She muttered under her breath before the avalanche took it away. The girls in their tiny group were shell-shocked while the boys were informed of the inevitable.

"Are those, dare I say it, anonymous love letters?" _It was_. The sole pure Japanese in their group helped Maka up while heaving the fresh air she can engulf. "My, my. What do we have here?" The tallest picked up a letter and started to nosily read. Her sister giggled at the disarrayed stack of letters and suddenly jumped in it, clearly imagining it as a pile of gathered autumn leaves.

"Someone's been popular." His partner sniffled a snicker. He rolled his ruby eyes, like red marbles circling aimlessly on the floor. "Well, duh. I'm the last _Death Scythe._" He retorted with great pride. "Narcissistic." His partner counterattacked. She went astray from the little catastrophe and opened her own locker down. It easily gave way.

She was not expecting something to suddenly avalanche her to death or nothing too dismal but there it was, a piece of white paper falling on her black boots. She picked it up with bubbling anticipation. "Someone's rising up from the bottom of the _food _chain." The elder Thompson sister snidely stated, which she gave no acknowledgement to.

Maka opened it with great precision, not wanting to accidentally rip the sole mail she got. It was short and simple yet somehow, it gave a gazillion butterflies fluttering in her empty stomach.

_"Thank you so much for the coffee. The message helped me dearly. I miss you. –D.T.K." _

The initials immediately struck her. The last sentence made her heart pound so hard, it wants to escape out of her ribs. _You, _it said, not _the group. _It made her whole body bubble in pristine euphoria. Everyone wants to see him again, not her. She _needs _to see him so badly.

She should have stayed when she delivered his coffee. _She should have. _

No time for that.

She grabbed her partner's calloused hand, making him exclaim in surprise before abruptly sprinting towards the location of the noisy cafeteria. She knows that they are selling highly-caffeinated drinks in there. "Hey, Maka! Wait up!" Her blue-headed ninja friend shouted behind her back.

"Last one's a total loser." That does it. _Loser _was just a midget kind of insult, but to Black Star, it means _you're not strong enough to be considered as someone who will surpass god _kind of insult.

"Oh, Maka. It. Is. On."

* * *

Dear readers, whether anonymous or not,

Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the sudden disappearance. This chapter was supposed to be posted during Christmas as a gift for all of you, but I hope you accept late arrivals.

I know you had assumptions about this being a filler chapter, but no. I don't do filler chapters unless highly necessary, which is all the time, _for me. _This chapter represents the development of some of the characters, especially Soul, who immediately turned popular since he was the youngest weapon to be turned into a _Death Scythe, _and the last one if I may add.

Anyway, I hope you liked it. For suggestions, reprimands, innocent comments, leave it in the review box. I look forward to reading it. No sending of flames, of course.

Question of the day: _Meister or weapon? If you chose the latter, what kind are you? If you chose the former, __**who**__ would be your weapon?_

Sincerely, Star.


	4. Mild Cappucino

_Ding-dong, dead-dong!_

DWMA's lunch was officially over.

He took a sip from his white paper cup. Dark rings spread across his pale eyelids. He obviously lacked of enticing sleep. Papers were strewn all over his pristine black desk. His lanky legs dangled from the leather armrest. He unremarkably finished his cappuccino with one big gulp. His face showed dissatisfaction.

Sleep clung to him like a heavy fog and it bothered him too much. His eyelids would droop, forcing him to jolt from his chair, and trying to shake the feeling of being extremely drowsy. The process incessantly repeats. To busy himself, he carefully removed the Post-it from the wrinkled brown bag and slowly read it– for the message to full sink in.

_If sleep were musical notes, I'd give you thousands of compositions. _

The metaphor haunted him to no end. It made sleep much more enticing. He knew that he was overworking himself, but he couldn't _just _stop. After perusing the exact same sentence in his head for a couple of times now, he decided to leave his work for a while and go out of his confined office to get some fresh air. It was no harm.

Newly sprinkled grass crumpled under the soles of his black polished shoes. Stuffing his ivory hands inside his pants pocket, he trekked up the rocky path towards a grove of old sugar maple trees located a few feet away from DWMA. The lot was completely deserted. He reached the boundary made of perfectly cut bricks, easily jumped over it, and landed gracefully on the rest of the pathway without a speckle of dirt at sight.

He knew the way, like the back of his hand. Maple trees act as serenity's conduit, it almost wanted him to stay there forever. _Almost. _Birds occasionally chirped, the leaves often rustled, the afternoon breeze billowed in mellow whispers, and he was one with nature. He breathed out, releasing a sigh filled with pure content and relief. Ironically speaking, he was glad that he was out of that hellhole.

A tree caught his tired gaze, a tree over towering the others. Death the Kid knew that he reached his destination. Unlike any others, an apple tree stood high and mighty at the center of the quiet grove. He didn't know how it got there but one thing is for certain: it was one of the best spots in the world to get a nap from. Someone already thought of his idea and beat him to it.

A certain ashy blonde. Her face was not something to be easily forgotten. Her whole exterior radiated of limpid simplicity and an ironic exquisite beauty. Her face reeked of calmness as she enjoyed the light breezes that tickled her rosy cheeks with a gossamer caress. He accidentally snapped a twig with his right sole and the peace and silence suddenly shatter into nonexistent pieces. Her emerald orbs shot open.

Her face scrunched up in alarm and her body sat up in immediate defense. Being a meister was hard. It high wired you and kept you alert at all times, not possibly risking imminent danger. It made you think that every tiny disruption of peace was a threat. It broke Kid's heart into miniscule shards, and yet they all could not help it. They enjoy the rush of adrenaline as they kill _kishins_ lurking in the shadows. They like the excitement and risk it brings. They just couldn't get enough of it, especially since they are teenagers. _But _they are _just _children who were forced into this cruel world filled with madness.

Her stance visibly softened when her gaze landed on him. "Little lord." She lightly teased. That brought a smile on Kid's face. He was relieved that Maka still remember him. He's been cooped up in his office for far too long. Maka tapped the patch of grass beside her, inviting him to join her company. He complied. He gracefully fell on his bum and grinned at his companion. Her face suddenly scrunched into a frown.

"You look tired." She cupped his cheek with her gloved hand, carefully thumbing the dark bags under his mesmerizing golden eyes. He just laughed. "Yeah. I couldn't get any sleep." Her frown deepened. She released his cheek from her heartwarming grasp and suddenly took off her black coat. She dusted it off first before folding it into a beautiful makeshift pillow. She put it on her lap. Kid turned confused.

Maka softly grabbed his shoulders and carefully brought him down, placing his head on the makeshift pillow. He tried to protest, but the comfort it brings inevitably made him sleepy. Add to that, Maka started to stroke his jet-black hair. Wind softly billowed and gave them a comforting hug.

"Maka, I swear, I don't need this. I'm fine." She placed her finger on his pale lips, completely shushing his incoming ramble. "Go to sleep." She whispered with such softness that it would make the clouds cower in embarrassment. He knew that there's no stopping when it comes to Maka, so he complied. He closed his eyes. He was slowly grasping the concept of sleep as Maka continue to stroke his hair in the most loving way. She started to hum and he knew that it was a dead end. He was finally going to get some sleep.

Peaceful environment, a comfortable place to sleep on, someone stroking his hair and humming, it was definitely noticeable characteristics of a harbinger of good sleep. Maka opened her mouth, letting the lyrics calmly flow from her tongue. It was a lullaby she vividly remembers. It was a lullaby that she clings to every night, casting away scary monsters and awful nightmares. It was a lullaby that was passed down by her missing mother. It was one of her special treasures and she is sharing it with Kid.

_Sleep, for I'll be here._

_Your forever lifeline._

_Sleep, for I'll protect you._

_Your knight in shining armor._

_Sleep, for I'll be your sweet dream._

_Your protector from nightmares._

_Sleep, for I'll sing._

_Your sweet lullaby._

She sang the first few lines. He started to fall asleep.

* * *

Dear readers, whether anonymous or not,

Full of descriptive paragraphs, mainly to evade dialogue. I like to make everyone feel the words woven to create this chapter. It might be incredibly boring for others, but I hope that for some, thinks that it's quite extraordinary. This chapter was to build a strong force for Kid's lugubrious state. I know that some of you think that Lord Death never did paperwork but he and Kid are quite different in personality. Lord Death can be jolly and extremely carefree while Kid likes to inhibit that with his seriousness and down to earth trait. Well, it's not true for all cases.

Anyway, I'm really sorry for the late update. School had resumed and we were given tons of homework. I deeply apologize for that, but I hope you liked this chapter. I created the quote and the lullaby by myself. For those who follows and favorites every time, I do hope you leave a review. I would really like to read your thoughts about the chapters I made. And this is longest, so far.

Question of the day: _What T.V. shows do you watch?_

I most certainly like Sherlock, How I Met Your Mother, and the Big Bang Theory at the moment. Sadly, I couldn't follow Supernatural and Doctor Who because of serious lack of time.

Sincerely, Star.


End file.
